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The Story of Iowa C JOHN D. CALDWELL submitted by Richard Barton Chapter XI The Story of a Noble Life Rev. JOHN D. CALDWELL We are pleased to give in this chapter the life-story of a devoted home missionary who has given his best years to Iowa and still is "alive and remaining" to see the good progress the church is making. The brother's name is Rev. John D. Caldwell, and it will be observed in the Minutes of our General Assembly that he is still a pastor, though he has been in the work more than thirty years. He furnishes for us the following sketch of his experiences in the pioneer work: "I was educated at Greenville Academy, Mercer Co., Pennsylvania , entered Jefferson College in the year 1850 as a sophomore and graduated with the class of 1853. The same year I entered the Western Theological Seminary and graduated there in 1856, having been licensed to preach the year before by the Presbytery of Erie . I came to Northeastern Iowa in April 1856, located my future home, returned to the seminary to finish my graduating term, and came back to Iowa with my wife in May. The first Sabbath in June I rested and then began my ministerial career, with headquarters at Littleton , Buchanan county, which place I have never left to this day, though I have served many churches in connection therewith. I was ordained in 1856 at the Fall meeting of the Presbytery of Dubuque, and installed pastor of the Pleasant Grove (now Littleton ) and Barclay (now Jesup) churches. At this time there were no churches of our order (Old School) west of Independence , Buchanan county, to Fort Dodge , and from the present line of the Illinois Central railroad to the Minnesota line, an area of more than 10,000 square miles. All this area was beautiful and fertile prairie covered in the summer with the richest imaginable carpet of grass and flowers of exquisite beauty and fragrance, covering hundreds of acres in one unbroken sheet of all possible colors and tints, surpassed only by the rainbow or brilliants sparkling in a dewdrop. From early Spring till Winter's frost, beginning with the anemone, daisy and violet, and closing with the large rosin-weed or wild artichoke, every week and almost every day sensibly changed the appearance and gave a different picture. It was like an enormous kaleidoscope, every succeeding change being more bewitchingly beautiful than the former. Once in a ride over the prairie, in company with my wife, between the Cedar and Wapsipinnicon rivers we gathered twenty-eight different shades of the common phlox, and a flower of the slough, rosin-weed, as full and large as a rose. Skirting the prairies were streams of beautiful and clear water and groves of exquisite shade making a landscape of peculiar interest to every lover of nature in its plain simplicity. The deer, in moderate abundance, played in the groves, drank in the streams and fed in nature's grand meadows. Rabbits played in safety, and wolves howled in fearlessness. The birds in great variety raised their songs and made the air ring with their melody. The grass on the prairies would average two feet in height, and in the flats, or sloughs as they were called, in the timber, would often attain the height of more than twelve feet. The sportsmen had a paradise along the streams, with fish and little fur animals. 1855-'56 were the great immigration seasons in this portion of the great West. The prairies were almost without inhabitant, whilst numerous villages were springing up in the timber skirts. I traveled miles and miles without seeing a person or passing a dwelling. "The winter of 1856-7 was a very severe one. It set in early,, on October 3rd or 5th, with severe blizzards from the northwest. The snows fell to the depth of over three feet, and piled up indefinitely. In many places the drifts were twenty feet high, always as high as whatever object had obstructed the winds. Where-ever there was a stable not perfectly protected, it was entirely covered up, with all the stock gathered together in it. In many places these drifts had to be tunneled so that the stock could be fed and watered. The great body of snow fell in the early part of the winter. It cleared up by the middle of January, but was intensely cold, the thermometer standing nearly constantly at 40 degrees below zero. The heavy winds and clear sun made a hard crust on the snow a foot thick. This carried up teams and made traveling easy and comparatively pleasant, and saved the people generally from starving and freezing for want of provisions and fuel. That year I preached at Waverly (a distance of thirty miles from home) every two weeks. I made me a sleigh just two and one half feet wide and long, put in thills, and drove a lithe sorrel mare. I made my sleigh small and light so that I could carry it out if I should get into a drift and have to loose my horse from it. I also prepared extra wraps, a pair of moccasins which came up to my knees, made of sheep skins with the wool on, and a fur cap that came down over my ears, and two heavy comforters to wrap around me, covering me perfectly from the wind and cold air. My sleigh was a 'Dandy,' as the boys said, and it looked likely to do all it was designed to do, but it was as full of pranks as a clown. The first time I rode in it I took my wife along and she enjoyed the ride hugely. Before we had gotten a mile away from home we ran in to a drift and had to back out. When I made the attempt to back, the sleigh refused to slide and preferred to rear up in front and we found ourselves lying on our backs in the snow and our feet up in the air, and so wrapped that it was with difficulty we could extricate ourselves. When we got righted and again on our way, on descending a gentle hillside and having met some slight obstacle which required us to back up the hill, the sleigh reared up behind and threw us on the thills and horse's feet. In going horizontally on a hillside it turned sideways with the ease of a jumping-jack. But the exercise of getting righted kept me in a nice glow of warmth, and filled up the time so that the day was full short to finish my accustomed journey. In a single day it put me out forty times, while we wended our way across the prairie which separates the Cedar and Wapsie rivers. I arrived at my destination at Robert Shannon's, an estimable elder, in whose house the church was and where I preached over two years, at the close of one of my trips, about dark. There was no evidence of anything where his stable ought to be found. As I was looking around for the stable, as I knew well its whereabouts, I was peremptorily ejected from the sleigh, and my pony, as was his wont, stood perfectly quiet for me to get up again. I went a few steps forward and found a hole in the snow about four feet square. I looked in and there found stable, hay stack, horses and cows, calves and pigs, all snugly housed and comfortably bedded, hearty and happy. I had been upset on the very top of the stable. I loosed my pony from the sleigh and led her to the hole. She instantly disappeared like an otter in the water, and was as happy as any of them. Then I wended my way, some ten rods further, to the house, where I found the family well and happy. "Another story or two, very interesting to me, I will narrate, with your permission. This was in the spring of 1858. 'Twas the breaking up of winter. The snows were melted away, the streams had been greatly swollen and the beautiful Wapsie had collected all the waters inside its channels and rolled them into the Mississippi . It was as bright a morning as I ever beheld in April. It had frozen keenly in the night of Friday. My appointments for the Sabbath were nearly thirty miles distant. The frost being out it was next to impossible to get to them with a horse, and there was only one possible way and that was on foot. I set out on the journey before sun-up. It rose beautifully grand. The ice bore me up wherever there was water to cross, in little pools of which the Wapsie bottoms were full, and my way the whole distance of twenty-five miles was along the Wapsie. I supposed being well acquainted with the country that I should get along finely. I started out with good heart and at my best speed. My course was without a road, for those days there were no roads. After awhile, about 8 o'clock , the sun got warm and the ice began to give way and refused to carry me. About this time I came to a lake with an island in the center of it. It is called goose pond. I looked either way and my journey was long and I did not want to make it any longer than necessary; the ice was strong and I kept straight through the middle of it, as that was my direct way. I was making good speed when suddenly I approached air-holes in the ice. I changed my course a little, to steer between them, and cautiously hastened along, when I found the ice was getting thinner. All at once I found myself middle deep in the water in a hole in the ice just the size of my body. The air was very warm but the water was a little cool. Well I looked all round, and concluded as I was wet, anyhow, I should not turn back, so I pushed ahead, supposing that I could get upon the ice after while. But the water kept getting deeper and the ice thinner, so I turned aside towards the island. After awhile the ice was strong enough to bear me and I reached the island safely. I laid me down on my back and put my feet up against a tree to drain my boots, which being done, I went out the way I got in, and went round the lake, losing about an hour of time, besides getting wet. There were several places to cross the river where I expected to cross and get provisions; but the boats had all been washed away in the flood and I could not cross. Night came and I had not passed a house all the day. I was dinnerless and supperless. It was ten o'clock at night before I reached my destination. My boot-legs lay around my ankles like rags, they were so soaked, and I was so wearied I was scarcely able to stand. And my hard day's work was all for nothing, for it began to rain about four o'clock on Sabbath morning and continued to pour down all day, so I had not the privilege of preaching the gospel for which I had gladly endured so much. "About the time of the breaking out of the rebellion we had very troublous times. Politics ran riot. The slightest word would kindle a fire hard to quench. We commenced to build a church at the close of the fearful struggle. The Lord graciously preserved our little household of faith from disruption; but we were greatly crippled in spiritual interests. We had worshipped in groves and school houses for nearly ten years, and a school house on extra occasions would not hold one-fourth of the people that attended. A church was a necessity and yet there were not means sufficient to build such a house as we needed. We had been proposing and postponing until I was ashamed. At last I made up my mind that I would take up the task myself, and I would have a church if I had to build it alone. So I drew up a subscription paper and started out soliciting. I first went to a member who had means and appreciation of such good things, and told him my intentions. Out of a salary of $200 I wrote down $50, and I told him I wanted him to be liberal, for it would take all we could possibly do to complete the task. He put down $30, with the promise of more if needed. I then went to the richest man in my church. When I told him my business he bristled up and gave me the grandest scolding I ever had. He said it was the most foolish business he ever knew any one to be guilty of. He wouldn't give a cent for it. It could not be done. I told him we were going to build a church whether he helped us or not. I had a good session who helped me, and we began work. We quarried the rock ourselves and hauled it to the spot. I gave them three-fourths of a block of Chatham lots in the very center of the village. I superintended the whole thing myself, and worked every day at whatever I could do. We hauled logs to the mill and had them sawed. We cut logs for the sills and plates and rafters and hewed them out. We framed the building and raised it. We sided and roofed it, working just as fast as we could get the material together. By winter we had it enclosed ready for seating. Our means were exhausted, and all our work brought to a halt. There stood the building with nothing in it - no pulpit or seats. We could get no more subscriptions, and I was determined to contract no debts unless I knew how to meet them. Then I adopted another plan. I got an estimate of the cost of a seat, to buy lumber and have a mechanic to make them. Then I took another subscription paper and went to every family and got them to subscribe enough to pay for their seats. I got enough subscribed to buy the lumber. Then I bought the lumber and hauled it to the church and employed a mechanic to make the pews and put them in. It was winter before the work was half done. In the meantime I was taken with the ague in a very severe form. I chilled fearfully, then I burned with fever, and then the sweat would pour off me profusely; and I became so weak that I could hardly walk - my task nearly done but no one to take my place and finish it. The mechanic had engaged to teach a school. The time had come when he must begin the school and it was fifteen miles distant. There was a month's work yet to finish the seats. I told him the seats must be finished. I would go and teach his school till he could do it. That plan was satisfactory. "The Sabbath before I was to start upon this new mission I took a severe chill in the pulpit at our morning service, but I held my place in the Bible with both hands and went on. As soon as the service was over I went home and to bed till time for the evening service - performed that, and then home again and to bed. On Monday morning I was up at four o'clock , my clothes as wet as if I had been in the river. I wrapped up well and drove ten miles before daylight to our county seat, where I went into a drug store and purchased an ounce of quinine. I took a teaspoonful at a dose four times a day. Under this treatment I completed my journey and taught the school until the pews were finished. Then I advertised the seats for sale and put a price on each. They went like hot cakes, there were not enough to go around, and I had plenty of money to pay my bills. The Board of Church Erection made us a small donation and we dedicated without debt, the happiest congregation in the world. "As a Home Missionary I believe fully one third of my time was spent on the road going to and from my appointments for twenty or more years. Once I walked to and from Presbytery one hundred miles distant. I had no horse at that time, and it was in the spring seed time, and every available horse was in the harness, and I could not afford the price charged for a livery. When I first came West my goods were stolen from me on the way, and myself and wife had only our traveling suits, our best things all being in our trunks which were stolen, and our first appearance was in just what we wore on our journey. My wife wore her sun bonnet. For six months we boarded among our parishioners from house to house. When winter came we had engaged a house, but winter set in so early and severely that the house could not be finished and it was impossible to live with the thermometer forty below zero in a house not plastered. So one of my parishioners told me if I would take his team and go to his woods and cut logs and have them sawed into boards and fix up his summer kitchen so that I could be comfortable I would be welcome to it. He was an invalid and not able to help me. I did so and had a very comfortable room till Spring. Now I must tell you this same summer kitchen was a log structure detached from the main building. It was ten by twelve feet inside. It was six feet high. I could walk straight in it with my hat off. The bed was in the northwest corner, the table in the northeast corner, the cupboard in the southeast corner. The window, four light, eight by ten, was in the middle of the south side, the library was in the southwest corner, the stove near the center of the room, and the chairs, three in number, around the stove, and the wood box under the window. We had it carpeted, and papered, and ceiled, and when the door, which was on the west side, was barricaded with two or three heavy comforts, the northwest blizzards were comparatively powerless of harm to us. There was one great advantage to me. I could kindle the fire mornings without getting out of bed and keep warm until the room was comfortable. We wintered here that severest of all winters I ever saw (1856-'57) and came through as happy and secure as wood- chucks. "I preached at a point in Bremer county, Iowa , called in early days Pin Hook, and surrounding country, now including Sumner, Dayton and Caldwell churches, the latter of which is now obsolete. This portion of the county I supplied from about 1856 till in the sixties. After an intermission, when a Mr. Lockwood supplied them, I preached for them several years more. It was during this second term that I determined to make a field which would support a minister all the time, so that I could retire permanently from the field. While undertaking this work of solidifying, the following catastrophe occurred. I succeeded, after very hard, ceaseless effort, in organizing two churches to add to Sumner. To do this required three services each Sabbath - Sumner in the morning; Dayton , seven and one-half miles south, in the afternoon, and at the Caldwell church, nine miles further to the southwest, for the evening. This work I did constantly for several years, until another man relieved me. On one occasion I met with a mishap. It was in the early autumn. It was as warm as summer, a very foggy day, and when night set in it was very dark, so that I could see nothing. I set out to my evening appointment at the usual hour, but the fog had made the day a full hour shorter than usual and darkness overtook me before my journey was half accomplished. My way was through the bottom of the Wapsie river, partly prairie and partly timber. Parallel with the road lay a long swail of water and grass. The grass was fully six feet high and concealed the water from view. At one point the track was divided into two rather indistinct roadways, one going north and the other south of the swail. My horse took the wrong track, going north instead of south. I perceived the mistake when we had gone forty or fifty rods out of the way. My horse also perceived it about the same time. I pulled him around to retrace our way back to the track we left, but the horse concluded to cut across, and I could not help myself, for it was utterly impossible to guide him, as there was nothing visible but water, and the water was concealed by the high grass, except around the edges, where the cattle had eaten it off. The water was fully hub-deep and getting deeper. The horse was plodding and striking and splashing the water in every direction. He had taken me about eight rods in the swail when he fell down. I waited a moment for him to rise, but he did not stir. I supposed he must be drowning and started to his relief. I jumped out of the buggy behind. The moment I was free from the buggy the horse jumped up and proceeded without me. I called to him but he did not stop. I ran to overtake him but fell down so often that he got almost out of hearing. Finding the water getting deeper all the time I concluded it would be wiser to go back and go round. This I did. The mud was ankle- deep and very tough, and it was quite an art to keep my boots on, and the only means I had of finding the right direction was the mud. When I was out of the mud I was going wrong. I got back at last to the track. I gave up finding the horse till I could have a light. There was not a human being within a mile and a half, and the road to my appointment was as near as any and my horse knew the way and when last heard from was steadily pursuing it, so I followed. I supposed also I might find him stopped by a tree caught in the buggy wheel. With this hope I went on. Often I stopped to listen, but no sound of the horse - the silence was as intense as the darkness. I pursued the dreary way, now sprawling in the mud over a bog of earth, now lurching against a tree or stump, and again in a water hole. Finally I reached the river. The ford was about waist-deep if I hit the right track, which was a semi-circle. I well knew the track, but it was dark and the landmarks were invisible. Without a moment's wavering I went in and soon reached safely the other side with most of the mud washed off my clothes. I plodded on and reached the house I set out for on my direct way to church. I found the lady of the house at home. The rest of the family had all gone to church. I found the house warm and cheery, and my horse waiting patiently at the gate for me to let him in. All was just as I left it in the buggy, not even my mittens were joggled off the seat. I was soon re-dressed and enjoyed a warm supper which the deal old lady prepared, and when the rest of the family returned, wondering why I had not put in an appearance (for I never disappointed them before), I was enjoying the rocker with the greatest comfort imaginable. Since that time I have been called to bury two of the members of that dear family, and sympathize with them in their deep affliction, but to this day Mrs. Hazlett and her family crack a smile over my adventure. "While I am about water stories, one more incident I often think of. It was in the autumn of 1860. I was on a missionary tour in the southwest part of Iowa , and was returning home. There had been heavy rains, the bridges were washed away, and the streams subsiding were still rapid and full. About a mile from Newton , at a mill, I had to cross. I had a guide to conduct me on this roundabout way, but I could not keep up with him. It was about dusk. My wagon was a half-spring and the stakes were short and the bed just barely above the stakes. But I never thought of all this. Just as I entered the stream, my guide being about forty rods ahead, an old man pointed me straight across the stream, saying that before the rain that was the shallowest place. The way was full of broken rocks. I took the direction indicated. My horse was swimming instantly. My trunk was in front of me. I sat in the middle of the seat with a foot on each side of the buggy box, and a line in each hand. Having gone about thirty feet, my horse struck bottom. Having gone about ten feet more, he plunged in again, he on one side and the buggy on the other of a ridge. We hung there a moment - it seemed an age. I gave him a sharp 'get up,' when he made a strong effort and pulled the vehicle over the sharp obstruction. Then we were swimming again, over and down the stream. Fortunately, after going about one hundred feet, we were again on terra firma, without hurt or loss. "Nearly thirty-four years are gone since I commenced my humble ministry on the beautiful prairies of the lovely Wapsie. I can number over five hundred souls as having entered the fold through my ministration; four churches born and reared into a healthful and flourishing manhood, and a full score of churches aided in their extremities and strengthened in their work; and at the present time a dozen men have their hands full where I have toiled alone. And our beloved Zion has prospects of still more prosperity in the very near future. O that each in the day of His coming may say, 'I have fought my way through; I have finished the work, that Thou gavest me to do.' O that each from his Lord may receive the glad word, 'Well and faithfully done, enter into my rest and sit down on my throne.'"
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